Poem: I exhale in the dark blue

 

I exhale in the dark blue,

listening to the song of the wind,

my heart pounding with emotions,

air bears the wisdom of the forest,

of giants and dragons sleeping;

Moon quietly gazing at her

reflection on the surface of the water.

Sadness dripping in my veins,

I’ve swam in it for years,

it lingers even in my voice.

I inhale the freshness

and ask myself: “If not here, then where?”

It’s not written in any book,

nor can any body else know,

it is inside of me, and out there

for me to find out. There is a red

thread connecting all of my days.

I may not know where it leads,

I may have lost my inner compass,

I may have walked a path that was not mine.

I can smell the magic

which brought me here.

Poem: Paint the sky

 

She is trying to describe a thought

without using words. The images

she sees are like pools in which

she swims. Belonging only to her.

Never experienced youth, always

felt older than her age. Outsider

in the roles she got. Her heart

is a forest of colourful trees,

every ring on the trunk carries

a short story of a life lived.

Our sense of who we are

is lost in our illusions

of what we think we should be,

what we think other people

expect us to be. Should we wake,

uncover our blindfolds, and open

our hearts to the person we are.

And paint the sky with our fingertips.

Poem: Anchored in silence

 

Poem: Stain glass castles

 

April rain pouring down with thunder,

caught at a red light; few notes on the radio

and you’re transported into the endless

and careless summer days you’ve had

as a child. Roaming the forests

and meadows in solitude.

You dealt with things as you knew how,

nobody there to hold your hand;

People came and went,

like passengers on the train.

With memories we built

stain glass castles through which

we’ll be looking our whole life.

The colourful shades shadowing

our adult days. Only once

do we walk the path of childhood.

Yet we can revisit anytime;

Peace comes with accepting. 

Poem: The petal rose as butterflies

 

When you do what is expected,

but that doesn’t fill your soul.

You put your foot, one

in front of the other, following

that desire. Do you have the

answer to the question:

“What is it that I need?”

When you’re always waiting,

always searching a way

to escape this moment.

Brokenly looking for a sign

to find your way.

You’re like a stream train

running, but is this path

truly yours? When your soul

is eager to master the blowing wind

and the raging seas.

Your years forming a petal

rose and they transform

into butterflies.

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Poem: Your shutter is a window to the past

 

Memories reside in your mind,

how tangible do they seem?

There is a constancy you feel to

your character; day to day

you don’t seem to change,

yet when years accumulate

you look at yourself and

question who you have become?

The cells that make your body

have all been replaced several

times in your lifetime. The proof

is there in the photographs

you look at; your shutter is a

window to the past – connecting

you to the moments that may have

gotten lost in the room of your mind.

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